


Snapshots

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-05
Updated: 2001-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 07:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignettes of Lex's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snapshots

## Snapshots

by Mela

[]()

* * *

Title: Snapshots 1/1  
Author: Mela  
Archives: Lex-Fans, ClarkLex and Mela_stories. Spoilers: None.  
Pairing: Lex/Clark   
Rating: PG-13 (implied sexual relationship) Disclaimers: I don't own them; the WB and DC comics do. I just like to muse about them... 

* * *

One. 

His name is Alexander Luthor and he is nine years old. 

But Alexander is such a long name for a little boy to pronounce; therefore, he has been called Lex since he christened himself with the nickname. 

There are other photographs of him, but this one is most important since it occurs on a day which will change his life forever. 

In this photograph, he stands with his mother and his father (the order is important), a little boy of nine with bright red hair that is even more vivid in contrast with the dark suit his father wears and the beige sweater set and brown skirt his mother wears. 

He has inched closer to his mother, and smiles a little half triumphant smile at the camera. His mother's arms are around him, and he has reached up to take one of her hands in his. 

The mother, Elaine, smiles brightly at the camera; proud of her son and of her husband. She is kind; perhaps too kind. Already the little boy knows that he can get her to do whatever he wants, but he also senses that there is a limit to the amount of pushing he can do. He is not yet at the age where he is ready to risk losing her love. 

The father, Lionel, looks at the camera, a faint smile on his lips, as if challenging anyone to see anything other than the happy family portrayed in the photograph. His arm is around his wife's waist, and his other hand reaches out to just touch his son's shoulder. 

"Mine," he seems to say to the viewer, "and don't you forget it." 

It is this air of possessiveness that makes his young son move away so that Lionel is barely touching the apple of Lex's shoulder. Already Lex has secrets from his father, though not the kind that will eventually render father and son apart. 

The mother has secrets as well. She has arranged this father-son trip so that she can go to her doctor for confirmation of the disease that will eventually kill her. However, in this photograph, the disease is still treatable if she makes the time to take care of herself, and not allow herself to always play peacekeeper between her husband and child. 

By the evening after this picture is taken, her resolutions for her health will be shattered. Her son will lie in a hospital, one of the victims of the meteor shower that will disrupt the quiet town of Smallville, Kansas. And all her energy will be spent over the next few months and the coming year nursing her son and supporting him through endless doctors' visits. 

* * *

Two. 

Lex is now fifteen years old. 

He wears a dark suit with a dark tee shirt underneath, and his expression is sullen as he stares out at the viewer. His father, Lionel, stands beside him, in a similar dark suit. 

The red hair of the little boy in the first picture is gone, and the teenaged Lex looks out with gray-blue eyes as if challenging anyone to remark on the smooth head. 

He stands stiffly, one hand over the other, as close to his father as he can come without touching him. 

Lionel, the father, stands stiffly as well, his mouth drawn into a tight line. 

The tension between father and son can be cut with a knife. 

Lionel gazes out at the viewer as if to say, "Look at this ungrateful brat. Look at what I have to put up with." 

Lex's gaze says, "Fuck you, dad." 

The mother's absence now lets the cold war turn hot. 

* * *

Three. 

Six years have passed and Lex is now twenty-one. 

Lex stands in this photograph cool, calm and collected. The sullenness of the teenager is now replaced with a sang froid overlaid with a veneer of worldliness, and a bit of ennui. 

The wild escapades of the teenager are gone, but the smile gives a hint of secret vices. 

"Do you think you know me?" it asks. "Think again." 

He poses against one of his many cars, his hand lightly touching the hood. 

"Mine," the gesture says. 

Beside him in the picture is a younger man, a boy really, of fifteen. The boy, Clark, is taller than Lex, but his body curves towards Lex like a willow bending in a breeze as his hand leans against Lex's car. Clark's body is strong, yet the face is innocent. The eyes are a striking blue against the dark of his eyelashes. 

He's beautiful, but doesn't sense it yet. 

Lex senses Clark's beauty. 

Lex's other hand is over Clark's arm in a gesture that is protective as well as possessive. 

"Mine. And don't you forget it," it says. 

* * *

Four. 

Lex is twenty-five and Clark is nineteen. 

They stand facing each other, lost in conversation. 

Lex's gaze is on Clark's lips as he speaks, and the thrust of his hip is such that one leg is thrust out. 

Clark is in the mirror image of this pose as he speaks. He looks down at Lex's half closed eyes. 

Their bodies make a circle without touching. Their stances, which cannot be maintained for a great length of time, speak of stolen moments of intimacy, and deep depths of desire. 

* * *

Five. 

Lex is thirty. 

Lex is alone. 

Clark, the lover, has long flown. 

Lex looks out at the viewer in this photograph, confident in his abilities. He stands behind his desk at Luthor Corp. 

The father, long dead, has been supplanted by his son. For when one now thinks of Luthor Corp. one thinks "Lex Luthor." 

Behind him, the vast vista of the city of Metropolis spreads out in the enormous panes of glass. 

The eyes are cobra like in their intensity. The lips curl into a smile. 

On his right hand, a ring with a strange green stone glows with an ominous light. 

"I am the master of all I survey," his pose says. "And don't you forget it." 


End file.
